Gifts of the Heart
by LannaKitty
Summary: In 1988, Helen finds more than she expected to on a trip to Scottland's Highlands.


Helen sighed as she regarded the pale bodies on the tables. The room was dark, save for the spotlights positioned of either table. She toed the recording device on and began her report.

"March twenty-third, ninteen eighty-eight, two-oh-seven PM. Subject A is a male abnormal approximately thirty years old. Anecdotal reports indicate he was a protean lifeform of the species _homo-sapiens lycanthropus_. Cause of death appears to be massive trauma caused by a gun-shot wound to the head."

Helen began her observations with what was on the surface. She walked around the male's table making note of the additional gunshot wounds. The origin of these bullets had been the guns of terrified Scottish villagers sharing bracing rounds at the local pub. With each round, then men had grown calmer, and the wolves they'd seen had grown more large and vicious, but the more telling tidbit had been the way the more… supernatural aspects had disappeared as the over-heard conversations continued.

After all, who still believed in werewolves?

"No apparent burn marks indicating close range. There are in total fifteen gunshot wounds. Thirteen in the torso, one in the upper thigh and the aforementioned gunshot to the head at the right temple."

The villagers were mostly sheep ranchers in a declining industry faced with problems from overgrown populations of red deer and now an environmentalist push to reintroduce wolves to the area. They'd believed someone had jumped the gun and put the creatures in their midst. They'd reacted violently.

While Helen understood their fear, her heart went out to the couple laid out on the tables. The hunters hadn't gone in to see the bodies and hadn't seen them revert to their human forms. Bravado and a steadfast refusal to accept the out of the ordinary had only replaced outright terror in the pub.

Helen moved to the second body as she continued her external examination. "Subject B is an abnormal female _homo-sapiens lycanthropus_ approximately in her late twenties. Cause of death, exsanguination due to multiple gunshot wounds." She paused over the body of the woman. She'd been shot about a dozen times that Helen could see. Her fair hair had been plaited with a blue ribbon, a decided contrast to the sturdy but rough clothing they'd been found in. Helen wondered if the item had been a gift from her mate. She had been so young and had so much ahead of her. Helen brushed aside a wisp of hair from the lightly freckled cheek.

Helen moved quickly across the space to the recording device and tapped off the mechanism. She leaned heavily against the cool metal counter and gripped the steel.

"A bit close to home, isn't it?"

Helen jumped and turned around. "James!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," James apologized with a slight bow. The mechanical suit he wore clicked and whirred with the motion.

"It's all right. How is our guest?" Helen busied herself with laying out the surgical implements she would need for the autopsies. The causes of death were plain, but there was much to be learned from the bodies. Proteans of this type were as reclusive as they were rare. Aside from the invaluable opportunity for discovery, there were more practical applications to consider. Their young guest for one.

"He seems to have settled somewhat. From what I could hear in the hall, the bath was an epic struggle."

"Oh my. Is Thomas quite all right?" While quite capable, Thomas was beginning to slow physically as age began to intrude on his life.

"He's fine," James assured her with a wave. He walked with a stiff-legged gait over to the bodies on the table and observed them, his hands clasped behind his back. The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. "I think Thomas rather enjoyed trying to wrangle a half-wild fifteen year old into a hot bath."

"Fifteen? He can't be more than half that!"

"I will admit that some amount of malnutrition has left the young man on the skinny side, but I have no reason to doubt he is fifteen."

The corner of Helen's lips quirked. "And how did you come by that?" She paused for effect "Elementary, Jimmy?"

James chuckled with the good humor of an old friend. "Hardly my dear Helen, he told me. Well, more to the point he told young Ashley."

"Ashley?" Helen paused in her preparations.

"Indeed. Ashley is, as of this moment, three and three quarters years old," James replied with a wry tone of voice.

Helen's smirk grew into fond smile. "So she is very fond of telling us all." James focused his eyes back on her and Helen could feel the weight of his not inconsiderable intellect.

"She immediately wanted to compare ages and he replied that he was fifteen." He straightened with a metallic clacking. "His accent is fairly thick, but between Thomas and I, we were able to understand him. I believe our young protean likely ages differently. Not unexpected given his particular type of abnormality."

"A body able to withstand such radical changes likely has some profound abilities beyond the obvious. Did you manage to catch his name? Did Ashley draw that out of him as well?" The young boy they'd found near the adults had been mostly silent since their trip from the highlands. Helen and Thomas Foss, her long-time friend and current weaponsmith who'd been accompanying her on this trip, had tried their best to cajole the boy into saying much of anything. Presented with the idea, she wasn't surprised Ashley had been the one to get the boy to open up a little.

Helen smiled. She'd ensured Ashley had exposure to all manner of beings as she tried to teach her daughter the beauty and wonder of the world from an early age. She had become quite fearless and while Helen worried, she was also proud. It seemed unlikely that they would be able to return the boy to his people. A search of the area had turned up no additional traced other than the small cave where the boy had been. Helen knew if the worst should come to her, Ashley would be taken care of .and well loved

"Don't think I haven't noticed you've avoided the topic at hand, Helen. On this or other items you've avoided discussing."

"Does the boy appear to have a developed sense of smell?" Helen inquired. "I would hate to see him again while I smelled of his parents."

"He has, as of yet, not shown any of the fabled abilities of his kind. Perhaps in time he will grow into them." He paused then continued on a different track, "Ashley is quite the charmer when she wants to be. Helen-"

"That's a mercy at least. We have some time to prepare." Helen kept her eyes on her trays, and broke in as if James hadn't begun to change the topic. "Though if I mean him or us, I'm not sure."

"Helen-"

Helen's head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes. "James. I have told you I do not wish to speak of it." She took a breath and let it out. "It isn't a matter of your concern in any case." She picked up her scalpel. "Would you do me a favor and turn on the recorder before you leave? Unless you want to help with the autopsy?"

"I know she's John's."

Helen put the scalpel down again. The metal made a muffled clack as it hit the cloth covered tray. She bit her lower lip and let out a breath.

"The how's and why's I can only surmise," he trailed off.

"How long have you known?" Helen asked.

"You just confirmed it."

She winced, feeling silly for falling into that trap.

"At first I wondered if you had taken an anonymous donor, but then I thought no, you would not be as cavalier with your heart as that. I know you of old Helen, and I know you view children as a gift of the heart not lightly given."

"I wonder what views they held." Helen gestured to the couple on the tables.

This time James overtly ignored the attempt at a change in conversation, though he noted her choice of topic and inflection and marked them both as telling. He let that lie for a moment and continued on. "We've all had many relationships over our lives, those of us who tend to…hang around I believe is the current vernacular?" He arched a brow.

"James," Helen's voice held as much warning as plea.

"But you've only ever truly given your heart to one man." James wandered over to examine the female on the table. "At first I wondered. Perhaps he was not as dead as we had all believed, but that didn't fit. If he isn't dead he is at least quite gone. Then I remembered how you'd taken ill some time ago and had to delay that trip to Cairo you'd planned. You remember that one?" James retrieved a set of sterile gloves as he spoke. He returned to the female and began to examine her with respectful fingers. "I concluded that if I could be capable of making a suit such as the one I am currently wearing, you could be the mother of advanced cryogenics. Have I got it all?"

Helen gave him a small rueful smile. "As accurate a deduction as ever."

"Hmm. Glad to know I haven't lost the touch." He returned his attention back to the body and a slightly uncomfortable silence fell between them.

"You never said anything." Helen's voice was soft.

"It was not my place. It would have been rude and intrusive to inquire if you were in the family way. However I concluded either the matter had been resolved one way or another, or I had been mistaken and you had been merely ill. But it was not my place," he repeated, softer. He shook his head as he looked at the dead werewolf female. I regrettably believe that this young woman may have been in a similar condition before she was killed." He straightened. "Such a pity. If they follow the behavior patterns of real wolves, they were likely a dispersed pair in the early stages of starting their own pack. Mature adults, though pinning their ages down physically may be difficult."

"If their growth rate is retarded, how old do you think they could be? I wonder, does it plateau or stop altogether?" Helen wondered aloud, seizing the topic change.

"Too young for this end."

They watched the bodies in near silence, James stood at the female's head and Helen at the male's feet. The only sound in the room was the very faint whirring of James' suit.

"Does Ashley-?"

"She knows her father is dead."

"Is he?" James wondered.

"He is to me."

James walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. Another silence stretched between them, filled with thoughts and emotions too heavy or too secret to be spoken of aloud.

Finally Helen took up the scalpel once more. "I should finish my examination."

"I will turn on the recorder for you." James walked to the far side of the room, gears whirring and clicking as he went. Helen's voice stopped him just before he turned the recorder back on.

"It is."

"Pardon?"

"Too close to home."

Helen's grip was tight on the tool and there was tension in her shoulders. Her back was to him and she spoke over her shoulder, viewing him from the corner of her eye. The admission was a peace offering.

James took it with a nod. "I leave you to your work."

hr

Helen finished the autopsies, cleaned the area, took an exceptionally long and hot shower then changed her clothing. She added a splash of perfume to cover any lingering scents from the bodies then, so armored, sought her daughter, her new guest and their companions. James acknowledged her with a cheerful smile as if their earlier conversation had never occurred. Helen replied in kind.

"Hello, all. How are we getting along the-oof!" Helen was cut off by the enthusiastic hug of her daughter.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

"Hello, Ashley. Have you been causing mischief?" she tickled the little girl's sides.

Ashley let out a noise somewhere between a squeal and a giggle and shook her head so quickly her pale hair fanned out. "That tickles! I've been good!"

Helen stopped. "Okay then. I heard you made a new friend."

Ashley nodded. "He's fifteen," she added with a the solemn gravity only someone her age could pull off.

"So I've heard." Helen tried to match Ashley's serious tone but the corners of her lips kept turning up.

"That more than three and three quarters?"

"Yes. About five times more."

"Oh." Ashley looked disappointed for half a second before asking "Will I be fifteen?"

The image of the dead werewolf mother flashed before her eyes and Helen had to pause for the barest of moments to collect herself before the could reply "Yes. Yes you'll be fifteen."

"When?"

Helen grinned. "After you're fourteen."

"Oh. When's that?"

"After you're thirteen."

Ashley frowned. "When's that?"

"After twelve. Which is after eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five and four."

"But that's _long_!" Ashley pouted.

Helen ruffled her hair, which Ashley hated, then gave her a hug and a kiss, which she liked much better. "It will go fast."

"How fast?"

Helen rolled her eyes "Faster than I'd like. Now, what have you been up to?"

Ashley smiled and began to drag her mother away by the hand. Helen weathered James' entirely too amused smirk as he observed them and followed Ashley to an ad-hoc creation of blankets, furniture and pillows piled high. There were lights inside and she could hear Thomas patiently speaking.

"Hello the house!" Helen joked as she crouched by the entrance.

Thomas was in his mid-fifties and while he was very talented, he possessed no Abnormalities. The boy they'd found sat on the floor beside him, both engrossed in small boxes lit by the camp light they'd hung from the back of the chair which served as the tent's main support. The two boxes were connected by a cable.

"One moment! Oh no! You got me again!" he exclaimed with enough of a jovial air Helen was certain he'd let the boy win.

The boy looked up. He wore a small smile that turned to alarm as Thomas got to his hands and knees.

"I'll just be a second," he reassured the boy as he crawled out. "Oh, give me a hand. I am almost too old for this," he chuckled at the irony of the statement with Helen present.

Helen helped him stand and he brushed the dust off his pants, his expression growing more serious.

"You've finished your exam?"

"Yes. Ashley? Why don't you play?"

"'Kay!"

With Ashley occupied, Helen returned her attention to Thomas. He was watching the boy, who'd crawled out to the edge of the cave. Not out, but to the edge where he could keep one eye on them while he pressed the buttons of the Game Boy. He was scrubbed since the last time Helen had seen him and he was wearing some jeans and a shirt. The clothing looked new. His hair had been cut, but it spiked as if defying the civilization imposed upon it.

Helen touched Thomas' shoulder. His wife had died before they'd had children and Thomas had never remarried. In some ways Ashley had been good for him, but in others it was very hard. Helen hadn't needed James Watson's brilliant mind to deduce that. Helen had coaxed the child out of the cave, then down from the rocks when he'd lost his nerve. But Thomas was the one who'd helped him get over his fear of the car. He hadn't been sure how to handle the situation, so he'd resorted to leading the boy around by the hand, showing him the parts of the vehicle and their equipment until he was comfortable enough to actually get into the land rover.

"He's a good kid. Mentally I don't think he's all that much more mature than Ash is. Maybe three, four years older? But he's bright. He's never seen a lot of this technology but aside from the apprehension with the car, I think he's taken a shine to it. The lights, TV and the gameboy in particular seem to get most of his interest. I'd have thought he'd be afraid of it all but he's not." Thomas smiled. "He's curious, but he's not sure he feels entirely safe yet. I think we'd be far worse off if Ash wasn't with us on this trip. " Finally he looked at Helen questions unasked but plain on his face.

Hellen squeezed his shoulder."Well, if you're taking him home, I'd like to know his name."

Thomas shrugged. "He doesn't have one."

"None?"

"No," Thomas shook his head. "I was wondering if maybe he has to earn one or maybe they refer to one another in some way we can't detect. I've seen an awful lot of strange things and his kind is stranger than most."

"Then it falls to you to name him, I think," James added, joining the conversation.

Thomas looked at the boy and smiled. "You know, I've always been fond of Henry."


End file.
